white bikini (with my red nail polish)
by flowermasters
Summary: In Peggy's defense, it is sinfully hot. AU.


A/N: Have some fluff to counter the sadness I've been producing recently. Btw, I know that bikinis were not at all mainstream in the mid-to-late 1940s, but since they showed up in _Agent Carter_, I figure I can get away with this.

Warning for: non-Capsicle AU, fluff.

Title inspired by a line in "Off to the Races" by Lana del Rey.

* * *

The day is abominably hot, and Peggy feels rather like she's melting, even clothed as she is in a casual green dress. The skin on the backs of her arms is sticking to the polished wood of the Adirondack chair she's sitting in, and she's sure she must look like a limp, wet rag right now. She's lived in America for a little while now, but she is still English to her core, and she's not at all used to these sweltering summer temperatures.

However, Howard and Steve are. Howard is wearing a shirt so thin that he might as well be shirtless, and while he doesn't exactly look _cool_, he certainly doesn't seem to be suffering as much as Peggy is. As for Steve - well, he could be out here running laps while wearing a parka and even then he probably wouldn't break a sweat. Steve, however, seems to have finally caught on to exactly how uncomfortable she is. "Peggy?" he says quietly, drawing her attention. "Are you alright?"

"I might start to boil soon enough, but I'm fine," she says rather crossly. She immediately feels bad, because it's not exactly Steve's fault that it's _hellishly_ hot, but she's in too sour of a mood to say sorry just yet.

Howard glances up at her, his attention briefly shifting from the sketches he's been eyeing pensively for the past five minutes. Steve's been itching to redesign the fit of the suit - never satisfied when something else can be done, that man - and part of the reason they're at Howard's estate is to let him have a look at Steve's ideas. Peggy had, rather unwisely, assumed that they'd be holding this meeting indoors. "Jeez, Peggy, why didn't you say something?" he asks. "You're welcome to take a dip in the pool."

Peggy raises her eyebrows at him. "I didn't bring anything to swim in."

"Right," Howard says, with a smile. "Well, luckily for you, I have a remedy for that."

If the phrase 'skinny-dipping' leaves Howard's mouth, Steve may have to stop Peggy from punching him in the throat.

"Have you heard of a bikini?" he asks instead, and Peggy raises an eyebrow at him. She has, indeed, heard of bikinis - she doesn't live under a rock, after all. "I've got a few that might fit you."

"Why do you have women's bathing suits lying around?" Peggy asks, rather archly.

"What's a bikini?" Steve asks, somewhat adorably clueless.

"I have female friends, you know," Howard says, feigning indignation. "And sometimes those ladies like to cool off in my pool, but haven't come prepared. What sort of host would I be if I didn't accommodate for their needs?"

Peggy rolls her eyes, fully intending to sit there and suffer rather than give into the temptation of the azure waters of Howard's pool or insist that they go inside. But then Howard says, "Although I suppose if you're too modest for it, that's alright. A lot of girls are."

Peggy has never, ever been able to stand a dare, and in her heat-addled state, Howard's words sound awfully close to one. "No, I think I'll take you up on your offer, actually," she says briskly, before she has time to lose her nerve. "A swim sounds rather nice."

Howard calls over one of his maids - Peggy's seen at least three so far - and asks her to please take Peggy to his closet, where she can find some swimwear. Peggy follows the maid - whom Howard had referred to as Mathilde - across the lawn and into the house, but not before she hears Steve ask Howard, "So what's the big deal about this _bikini_?"

Howard's closet is massive and full to the brim with clothing, but Mathilde leads Peggy directly to one corner, where there are, in fact, women's swimsuits - all of them quite new, by the looks of them. There's also a collection of frothy, lightweight dressing gowns that are so thin they're practically useless - but that's Howard's taste for you. Her resolve hardening, Peggy finally locates a suit that fits - Howard likes his girls twiggy, apparently, and Peggy is _not_ twiggy - and puts it on and deliberately does _not_ put on one of the robes.

It's quite a relief to be out of her dress, even if she feels practically naked as she goes back downstairs. But Peggy has shot at Nazis and flown through active war zones - she will _not_ be cowed by a simple article of clothing. Even if it is a particularly _risqué_ one.

Once she she steps out the French doors and back into the heat, she's immediately glad she made this decision. It's still as hot as sin, but at least there's less fabric on her body to trap heat against her skin. As she crosses the lawn, Steve and Howard both look up at the same time. She doesn't miss it when Steve's jaw drops.

"That, my friend, is a bikini," Howard says, smirking before pretending once more to be fixated on his papers. "Feel better, Peg?" he asks, making a show of _not_ looking up at her.

"Much," she says, raising her eyebrows at Steve as she passes him to reach the pool. "Everything alright, Captain?"

Steve finally seems to regain control of his face, and he quickly tries to look less gobsmacked. He's only marginally successful. "Yeah, of course," he says. Perhaps her lack of dress is resulting in an adrenaline rush, but just for the hell of it, Peggy winks at him. Steve smiles, but a pink flush has begun to spread across his cheeks.

She steps into the pool delicately, and sighs with pleasure as soon as the water hits her toes. The sun-warmed water is by no means chilly, but it's a welcome relief from the blistering heat and exhausting humidity. Peggy gets in all the way up to her collarbones, as far as she can go without running the risk of totally ruining her hair - not that it's looking too splendid after being exposed to the muggy air for so long.

Steve and Howard resume talking while Peggy drifts and generally ignores them in favor of the cool water. She returns to them briefly, but only to fetch a glass of lemonade from the tray Mathilde brings over. Dripping, she takes a sip (and nearly grimaces at the unexpectedly strong taste of alcohol paired with the sour drink) and glances over at Steve. She catches him looking at her, his eyes on the curve of her hips, before he realizes she's staring at him. When his apologetic gaze meets hers, she smiles at him reassuringly, and he smiles back - but he's not without an undercurrent of heat in his expression. Peggy _knows_ that look.

Feeling unexpectedly powerful, she walks back to the pool with her glass in hand, and if her hips sway a little bit more than normal - well, she doesn't mind, and she doubts that Steve does either. His eyes keep finding her even when he's in the middle of a sentence directed at Howard, and Peggy knows that she - specifically, her scanty attire - is affecting him. She quite likes it, all things considered.

It's late afternoon by the time she and Steve say their goodbyes to Howard (who insists that they come by again soon - "For a real swim next time," he says, with a wink.) Peggy regrettably puts her dress back on, but at least she won't have to be outside for any longer. She and Steve walk back to the car together, hand-in-hand like schoolchildren.

They've barely made it into the vehicle when Steve leans over from the driver's side and kisses her. Taken aback, it takes Peggy a second to respond, and he pulls away. "Sorry," he says, pink-cheeked once more. "I've been wanting to do that all afternoon."

She smiles at him, flutters of a familiar heat lighting in her stomach. "Just that?" she asks, mischievous.

"Among other things," he says, trying - and failing - to hide his smile. He turns the key then, and as they make their way up Howard's extraordinarily long driveway, he says with a touch of shyness, "I really liked that thing you had on. The bikini."

"I could tell," she admits, feeling altogether rather pleased with herself. "Although I can't imagine why it had you so flustered. You've seen me in less."

He gives her the smile of a guilty schoolboy. "But that's different," he says. "That's in the bedroom."

"Don't tell me you're turning adventurous on me, Rogers," Peggy chides playfully, and Steve laughs, reaching over to take her hand again as he steers with the other. His skin is naturally as warm as her own slightly sunburned flesh, and when his eyes meet hers ever so briefly, Peggy finds that she doesn't mind the heat so much anymore.

On the ride back to the city, Peggy finds herself contemplating her next work-related trip to Europe; perhaps she'll pass through Paris and pick up a few of those scandalous bikinis of her own, if the heat keeps up.


End file.
